Page 81 of The Perfect Divorce

“‘This belongs to Sarah Morgan. Test the blood, and you’ll find out what it was last used for.’”

Olson and I exchange a confused look as I reach my hand into the bag and slowly pull out the object inside of it. It’s a knife with a six-inch blade, covered in what appears to be dried blood.

“What the hell?” Olson gets to her feet, taking a closer look.

I slip it back into the bag and put the bag in the box, sliding it to her. “Get this knife to the lab ASAP.”

She nods, collects the box, and heads for the door.

No matter what I do, the past seems to keep haunting me, chasing me into a corner I can’t get out of.

Before Olson exits my office, she pauses and looks back at me. “What do you think this means?”

“It could mean nothing. It could mean everything.”

FORTY-TWO

BOB MILLER

Three soft knocks rap against the wooden door of my hotel room. I press mute on the TV remote, swing my legs out of bed, and plant my feet on the floor. Lining my eye up with the peephole, I steal a quick glance before unlocking the door and pulling it open. The man I’ve been expecting stands there, shoulders held high and hands clasped in front of him.

“Come in,” I say, stepping aside to let him enter.

He surveys the room, and I’m not sure if he’s just assessing the amenities of the hotel or checking to make sure we’re truly alone.

I close the door and double-lock it before checking my watch. He’s exactly on time, not a second late, a true professional.

“Thanks for meeting me here, Alejandro.”

He sits in the sofa chair set in the corner, crossing his ankle over his knee. “Nice digs.”

I can’t tell if he’s being sarcastic or not, but then again, I’m used to a life much more comfortable than his.

“It’s just a place to rest my head tonight.”

“Why are you staying in a hotel anyway?” Alejandro asks. “Don’t you have multiple homes?”

“Because I’ll need an alibi for what you”—I point my index finger at him—“are about to do.”

Confusion fills his face as he cranes his neck toward me and twists his lips. “What is it thatyouthink I’m going to do?”

I grab the TV remote and crank the volume up before taking a seat on the edge of the bed, only a few feet from Alejandro. “You need to take her out,” I say in a quiet voice, just barely audible over the loud commercial playing on the television. I can never be too careful, and I already know I’m on Hudson’s radar.

Alejandro’s eyes dart, taking in every square inch of my face, searching for a sign that what I’m saying is a joke. “Are you serious?”

“Very.”

“I thought you said I was just watching her.”

“I did. But things have changed, and now I need some of your... other... services.”

Alejandro slowly shakes his head as he rises from the chair and walks toward the door. I think he’s about to leave, but he pauses in front of the full-length mirror and studies the man before him. After a few seconds, he turns to me. I stand and stare back.

“Is that really what you want?” His face is stoic, and I can’t tell what he’s thinking. Either he hides his emotions well, or he doesn’t have any.

“It’s not what I want. It’s just what needs to be done.”

“And you’re sure?”

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